Weaknesses
by Momma Duck
Summary: Spencer falls in love with a stupid cat and his teensy socked paws, and Aria likes to tease her that tiny things are her weakness. And it's probably true. (In which Sparia are cat parents living in domestic bliss and it's absolutely adorable.) Pure fluff to make your heart explode. AU/One-shot. Hope you enjoy! :D


**A/N: It was raining and I was generally having an awful day, so I decided to combine the two most adorable things in the universe: Sparia and baby animals. Now I'm literally the happiest person on the planet and ugly crying because of it. **

~•~•~•~

They're still in that blissful honeymoon phase of their relationship when they drop by the local animal shelter. Aria's hand clings tightly to hers as they peruse the kennels, and only lets go when presented with ample opportunities to lift baby animals from their crates. The depth of her girlfriend's love is tangible to Spencer — it's big and beautiful and blinding — and maybe she's a little jealous, admittedly, when Aria makes it her mission to cradle each of these helpless creatures in her arms.

If they weren't college students living off of ramen and constantly bumping elbows in a one-bedroom apartment, Spencer knows that Aria would adopt every single animal in this place. She would be content to mother them all day, every day, to house them and feed them and love them. Aria would gladly turn their home into a goddamn zoo if Spencer and their budget would allow it.

For now, she can tolerate _one _pet. _Only one_, she reminds Aria, which prompts the other girl to jut out her bottom lip. She's sitting on the tiled floor in the feline sanctuary, surrounded by a litter of kittens. The one currently in her arms wriggles free and scales her shoulder to swat at a dangling earring. He's a tuxedo cat, with innocent blue eyes and socked paws, and Aria's been holding on to him for twenty minutes now. Spencer realizes that this will be the one Aria chooses as their adoptee.

_Rambunctious little scamp_.

Once he gets tired of playing with Aria's very interesting jewelry, he hops deftly to the floor and takes a moment to groom himself. Then he approaches Spencer's feet, paws curiously at her shoelaces before opening his jaws wide to cry at her. It's a rather needy meow, a commanding one, and she can't help but cave in response.

She picks him up cautiously, inexperienced with handling such a tiny, fragile thing. She was never allowed to have goldfish, let alone care for a kitten, so she awkwardly holds him against her sternum, feeling the opposite of maternal and entirely too bony.

"Um," she says warily. "Hey there, little guy."

He squirms suddenly and violently, claws digging into the fabric of her shirt as he climbs up to the crook of her neck to bury his face in her hair. A wet nose touches her neck and she flinches, only to let out a nervous chuckle when a sandpaper tongue scrapes at her skin.

"I think he likes you," observes Aria, a rather amused grin on her face.

Spencer shrugs helplessly, supporting the cat's hind legs with one hand and stroking his back with the other. "So how do I get it off me?"

"You don't — we're taking him home."

The next few days are a hassle to adjust to. They get him everything he needs from a pet store, take him to the vet for a check-up, and then try to decide on a name. It's difficult for Spencer; she's used to labeling passages in her school notes, not giving an identity to a real, living thing. In contrast, Aria has plenty of suggestions, ranging from cliches like Socks or Mittens to obscure literary references that even Spencer can't decipher. They finally decide on Tybalt, which suits the energy and swagger the little guy carries himself with. Aria buys him a collar that has a bow tie on it, and insist he's the most roguishly handsome cat she's ever seen. Spencer rolls her eyes, though she can't help but agree.

Once Tybalt adjusts to his new home, they let him run loose. He skids across the kitchen floor and gets lost behind the couch cushions, makes acrobatic leaps onto various surfaces and fights with the window blinds. Finally, exhausted, he falls asleep on Spencer's neck, tucked under her chin like a warm and fuzzy scarf as she and Aria curl on the sofa to watch old movies.

Over the next year, he makes it a habit to inconvenience Spencer in every way possible. He sits calmly in Aria's lap when she's busy typing on her computer, but insists on sprawling across the keyboard when Spencer needs to get work done. He makes a bed out of her textbooks while they're open on her desk, and knocks papers off like he's doing it on purpose. She wakes up with him sleeping on her forehead or batting at her toes in the middle of the night. He shreds an entire roll of toilet paper while Aria is at work and it's _supposed_ to be Spencer's day off.

She could throttle him sometimes, but at the same time, she doesn't really mind his antics. He often jumps onto the island counter and licks at the rim of her coffee mug during breakfast, and she always gets up to pour him a dish of cream. They go on walks and she vigilantly steers him away from poisonous plants, but she lets him nibble some grass every now and then. She finds herself buying him a new toy every time her paycheck comes in, even though he has a violent history of immediately destroying them. Hell, she never even complains when he kicks a bunch of sand out of his litter box.

She falls in love with this stupid cat.

_Tiny things are your weakness_, Aria likes to tease her. And it's probably true.

It's four years later when she and Aria have their first _major_ fight, one that ends in Aria actually cleaning out her side of the closet and crashing on a friend's couch. The first few weeks when Spencer is alone and missing Aria's warmth beside her in bed, Tybalt helps her get through it. He seems to sense how dejected she is, and even though he's bigger and heavier than he was when he was a kitten, he drapes himself across her neck, tucks under her chin. She buries her face in his soft, furry belly and cries in heaving, painful sobs, and he licks the salt gently from her cheeks when she finally exhausts herself. She falls asleep feeling empty but comforted by his malleable weight on her chest, and his quick, light heartbeat.

Even then, she worries that she's too bony for him to get comfortable on, and wishes Aria was here to cradle him like a baby.

He keeps her from falling into complete depression, though. She can't let herself waste away, can't go days without eating or showering or studying, not while he relies on her for survival. She feeds him first, then makes herself eat. He meows at the door while she sulks in the shower, then lays on her feet while she stands at the bathroom mirror to flat-iron her hair and conceal the bags under her eyes. They go for their usual walks and the sun on her face makes her feel better, if only by the tiniest bit. He lays in her lap while she studies for the LSAT, and lets her pet him when she sees Aria's social media posts and her heart twinges.

She's almost herself again, lounging on the couch with a novel propped on her knees and Tybalt curled against her side, when Aria comes back. Tybalt shoots off the sofa before she can even hear footsteps in the hallway, and starts crying at the door before Aria even knocks. He excitedly twines between the shorter woman's ankles when Spencer opens the door, and she can't help but smile as her ex kneels to scratch him between the ears. Aria's eyes are green and soulful and full of apology when she glances up at her.

They talk on the couch and the cat curls on Aria's lap like he missed her, looks at Spencer with eyes that are almost pleading her to forgive Aria. It's a look reminiscent of a kid that wants his parents to get back together again, hopeful and innocent. She almost can't stand it, almost kicks Aria out alongside that stupid cat so she won't have to feel so conflicted anymore. But she doesn't, and she agrees to go out to dinner with Aria later in the week.

It takes a few months to patch things up completely, but every time Aria spends the night, Tybalt happily wedges himself between them in bed, purring contentedly. He has to get his scent on all of her stuff when she moves back in, and they laugh when they find him napping in a cardboard box. Things are good again.

Tybalt is seven when she and Aria get engaged, and he starts acting less mischievous and more like a grumpy middle-aged man. He attends the wedding, of course, looking just as handsome as ever in a bow tie.

By the time they can afford a house, Spencer's an established lawyer and Aria is a respected journalist for an esteemed newspaper. They have no trouble paying the bills, they're marriage is going great, and they've started having serious discussions about kids. Life is so unbelievably wonderful, but then Tybalt starts hiding behind the couch.

And finally, they lose him.

They bury him under a pretty oak in their backyard, have a tiny headstone made for him, but it doesn't fill the void of his absence. Spencer feels it like a bullet every time she pours her morning coffee or goes for a jog. She misses him.

The rest of the year shapes up to be a particularly bad one. They find out that Aria can't get pregnant. Veronica begins chemotherapy, and they spend a few anxious weeks in Rosewood to support her. But the town holds nothing but nightmares for either of them. Spencer can't get any rest and adds sleeping pills to her nightly routine. Aria often wakes up thrashing and screaming. It's a rough couple of months before they drag themselves back to their quaint, three-bedroom house in Maryland.

Home.

They sit on the couch in silence, too tired to even think about sleeping.

The next year is better, and Spencer slowly starts to feel like she can breathe again. She misses that stupid cat every day still, but the pain has become a dull ache that's only really noticeable when she thinks about him. Her mom has gone into partial remission, thankfully, and expresses sincere excitement about the idea of becoming a grandmother. Ella is just as thrilled when Aria gives her a call. They take a two-week vacation to Italy to step away from it all, get some perspective, and they come back tanned and refortified.

They start scouting fertility clinics, interview potential donors, and after a few weeks, they officially become mothers. Spencer's hormones spike and she becomes no less than a machine at work to remind her coworkers that she's an asset to the firm. She's not about to let them fire her when she comes back from maternity leave. No way in hell — not when she has a baby to provide for.

Aria becomes worried that she's working _too_ hard and starts giving her random massages, which Spencer isn't about to complain about. However, she does complain about not being able to drink her usual amount of coffee, and Aria switches her to some kind of herbal tea that she always scowls at in the morning. It pisses her off, but, then again, _everything _pisses her off lately. She screams at people in traffic and snaps at her wife and even curses the toilet when she's bent over it with morning sickness.

She's miserable but happier than she's ever been. And terrified. So utterly terrified, but Aria gets her through it. Aria never lets go of her hand, even when she's going into labor and squeezes so hard her wife's delicate finger bones are in danger of snapping like twigs.

Aria is the first to hold their son, cooing softly at him as she brings him over so Spencer can meet him. She's so thoroughly exhausted, but she falls immediately in love with this wrinkly, wailing creature as she cradles him. She still doesn't feel very maternal, despite having _literally _just given birth. But he grabs onto her pinky finger with one tiny hand and her heart just melts. She starts to cry, which makes Aria's floodgates burst as well.

It's a happy sort of sobbing. They're both _so_ happy. Happier than words. But she knows the newborn in her arms is probably _pissed_. Spencer chuckles a little at the idea but just rocks him, tries to soothe him, because the poor little guy has been through hell and back to get here. And it's not gonna get any less painful as he grows up.

But she promises him right then and there that she will _always_ be there for him. She'll protect him, love him, support him. Unconditionally, irrevocably. She promises to never make him feel like she did growing up. She won't _dare _to make the same mistakes her own parents had, and he will feel like he belongs, like he's enough. She'll remind him of that from time to time, just to catch a glimpse of his smile.

When he turns five, they go to the local animal shelter.

He holds her hand and hides behind Aria's leg a little as they walk through the kennels, unsure about all the noise. He loves seeing all the animals at the zoo, though, so he perks up when he realizes where they are.

"Puppy! Puppy!" he squeals, ripping away from them to run over to the puppy pen. He bounces on the balls of his feet and grins back at them. "Mama, can we get one? _Pleeaase_?"

Aria hoists him up onto her hip with an exaggerated grunt, and Spencer momentarily worries about her back. They're getting old; Spencer was prescribed pills for moderate hypertension the other day and Aria's getting crow's feet. They're starting to find gray hairs. "That's what we're here for, dude," says her wife, shooting her a look over his head that clearly says _I'm fine, quit worrying_. "You get to pick out whichever pet you want."

He scans the pen, where puppies of all sorts are running around a spread of artificial turf, playing and rolling and barking. "Hmm…" He taps his chin rather theatrically and pouts, then looks at Aria with a furrowed brow. "Can't we get all of them?"

Spencer snorts because their son has a heart to rival Aria's. Aria shoots her a sheepish look, Spencer winks at her, and the shorter woman rolls her eyes before turning her attention back to the boy.

"No, babe," she says gently. "We can't get all of them."

He tilts his head curiously, an action that Aria tells her she does all the time. He's Spencer's spitting image when it comes to mannerisms, though Spencer thinks he acts more like Aria. "Why not?"

"Because," Aria starts. "Puppies need lots of attention. They eat a lot and need to go to the doctor if they get sick. It costs a lot of money. We don't have enough to take care of _all _of the puppies, and that's not fair to them, sweetheart."

"Oh," he says glumly, then lights up with an idea. "They can have some of my food! Sharing's important, remember?"

Aria pokes at his belly and he giggles. "I know, silly goose. But they eat special puppy food. Your food isn't good for them."

"Why?"

"It's poisonous," supplies Spencer. "Like how you're not supposed to eat something if you don't know what it is. It could make them very sick."

"Oh, right." He nods solemnly, with such maturity that Spencer almost laughs. Instead, she smiles at him and reaches over to playfully ruffle his hair.

"Now which one do you like most, champ? Or we can go look at the cats if you want."

He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose. "Cats are meanies."

_Yes they are_, Spencer thinks fondly, remembering Tybalt lying on her keyboard just so she would give him her attention. She still misses that little asshole.

Suddenly, an excited yipping starts up, and Spencer looks over just in time to see a basset hound puppy bounding toward them. But its long, floppy ears are in the way and it steps on one, which sends it tumbling into the low wall at the perimeter of the pen. Aria makes a little sympathetic noise as Spencer bends to pick up the clumsy dog. She holds it confidently and scratches behind its long ears, having gained some experience with holding cute and fragile things.

Dogs are more extroverted creatures, she soon realizes, as she's greeted with a big, slobbery kiss on the mouth.

"_Urgh_," she groans, dragging the back of her hand across her lips. "Hello to you, too, clumsy."

"Clumsy!" mimics their little boy, and he reaches for the dog. Spencer scoots over so he can pet it. "Can we get this one, mama?"

Aria raises an unsure eyebrow at the floppy-eared hound. "Well, he's got charm. I'll give you that."

"Come on, babe..." Spencer pouts, maneuvering the dog until it's close enough to give Aria a hello kiss, too. "I think he likes you."

"_Ohmygodthedogbreath_," Aria lets out in one long groan, twisting away. "S'gross, Spence."

Spencer laughs. "I take it you're not a dog person?"

"I am. But I like _cute _dogs. He's dopey looking and his legs are stubby."

"Look who's talking, pipsqueak."

Aria slugs her on the arm, _hard_, but turns to their son with an air of superiority. "Remember that we don't bully people for their appearance–"

"Or _hit_ people," adds Spencer, rubbing her arm and shooting her wife a dirty look.

Aria sticks her tongue out at her. "It's okay to tease as long as you make sure you're not hurting anyone's feelings."

Spencer nods in agreement. "And you only have permission to hit people if you're defending yourself."

"Like if the assholes beat me up?"

Both of their eyebrows shoot sky high at the word that just left their five-year-old's mouth. "Where did you hear that word?" Aria asks.

Without hesitation, he points to Spencer.

"Is mommy a asshole?" he asks innocently. "Is that why you punched her?"

Despite herself, Aria smirks, but she gives Spencer a rather scary look. They'll have a talk about Spencer's use of profanity later, that's for sure. "Yes, she is. But I didn't actually hurt her because I love her very much."

"Right," Spencer agrees, though she tightens her jaw at the jab. "She's just teasing. That didn't even hurt."

"And, buddy, we don't say that word. It's not nice."

"What word? Asshole?"

"Yes."

He gives them another serious, understanding nod. "Okay. I won't say it anymore." His eyebrows pull together. "What's a pipsqueak?"

"It's a nickname for someone short."

"I'm short," he says decidedly. "Am I a pipsqueak?"

Aria pushes his hair out of his eyes. "You'll grow when you're older. Then you'll probably be a giraffe like your mommy."

"Excuse me, I am _not _a giraffe," corrects Spencer. "I'm barely above average in height. You're just jealous because I can reach the top shelf and you can't."

Aria looks absolutely murderous for a moment before she smooths out her expression and smiles, changes the subject. "So you really want this dog, kiddo?"

"Yep! I already named him and everything. His name's Clumsy."

They take Clumsy home and teach their son how to take care of him. He takes to the responsibility like a duck to water, which makes them _so_ _so so _proud. Spencer likes the dog, but Aria grumbles about him every now and then.

She's not fooling anyone, though.

Spencer walks in on Aria asleep on the couch with the dog sprawled in her lap. She sees them playing fetch in the yard, notices how utterly enamored Aria looks by his floppy ears and sad eyes. Those eyes can give her one pleading look and she melts.

_Reminds me of you_, Aria tells her one evening, their gazes locking. Their son is squeezed between them on the sofa, fast asleep, and Clumsy is in his spot on Aria's lap, periodically lifting his head to lick her chin and shoot her a rather doleful look. _They're kind of my weakness. _

~•~•~•~


End file.
